Avon's Little Girl, a Thieves in Time story 15
by Orion Lyonesse
Summary: Yes, Avon and Vila are about to be fathers! Serran turns out to be much more than they expected. Follows 'Housewarming.' A/v
1. Arrival

_A/N: AVON'S LITTLE GIRL follows HOUSEWARMING, continuing the saga of Vila and Avon after surviving Gauda Prime. The B7 characters belong to BBC and Terry Nation. The story is set on Darkover, which belongs to Marion Zimmer Bradley._

_There are several previous story arcs. Please see my profile for the names and order of those stories._

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"I don't think I've ever seen you this jumpy," Vila remarked as Avon made another circuit around the sitting room, shoving an impatient hand through his long dark hair. He was still not used to his mane of hair, but he refused to cut it. Somehow, in his mind, it separated him from the dark, intense, homicidal Kerr Avon that had commanded the Liberator and Scorpio. Even when irritated at the length, it still served as a reminder of the dark times and helped him negotiate this new world he and Vila were creating between them.

"Well, I've never been a father before, have I?" he snapped, halting abruptly, fisted hands on his hips and a dangerous glare in his eyes.

Vila snickered at his mate's obvious unease, easily dismissing the glare. "Good thing, that," he said dryly.

"Vila, what if she doesn't like us?" Avon asked, his voice low and desperate. "What if she…doesn't like me?" He chewed on his lower lip, his brows corrugating in worry. He could so easily envision multiple scenarios that had this…child disliking him or dismissing him or even defying him. And he would have no notion how to deal with any of it. He could command a starship, plot battle campaigns, scheme to defraud the Federation banking system, but how was he supposed to raise a young girl-child?

Vila stepped in close to his partner, not quite touching. Tilting his head to one side, an amused smile flickering on his lips, he asked lightly, "Why shouldn't she? I like you, you're a likeable sort. Very likeable," he purred, reaching one delicate finger to trace Avon's jaw line, trying to distract Avon.

It worked. Affronted, though only slightly, he brushed aside Vila's questing hand, saying with exasperation, "Come on, Vila, not now. Cally's due within the hour."

With a complacent grin, Vila pulled back, raising his hands in surrender. "Just teasing, my love."

A wry grin creased Avon's face. "I know," he sighed. "Let's go; she might be early and I don't want to keep them waiting."

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They waited beside the trap, at the edge of the landing field, watching as the PAXON, a relatively small scout ship, made its final approach and settled to the ground. While most of the Avilla horses were used to the sound and smell of spacecraft by now, Avon took no chances, holding the bay cob securely until the shuttle was down and silent.

Shortly, the hatch lifted and Cally stepped into the open. She turned back, beckoning, and a smaller figure joined her on the ramp. Avon's breath caught and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt Vila's hand on his shoulder.

"Go on, this is your time, Avon. I'll wait here with the cart."

The darker man walked slowly toward the ship, as Cally turned and waved. "Avon!" she called out.

"Cally," he returned, striding faster now, stopping just short of the ramp.

Cally stepped aside, drawing her daughter forward with one arm around her shoulders. "Avon, this is Serran."

Avon regarded the thin, big-eyed child at close range now. She was small for her age, but very pretty, with her long auburn hair, bright green eyes, and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He noted with a smile that Cally had dressed her in the distinctive Avilla plaid, probably with Vila's collusion. Brushing his long hair out of his eyes, he sank to one knee, bringing himself to her eye level.

A small voice piped up solemnly, "If you don't like your hair in your eyes, why don't you cut it short?"

He blinked at this unexpected opening. "Because…well, that was another man, one I don't wish to become again," he answered seriously. _Maybe,_ he mused, _she's so used to dealing only with adults that she doesn't even know how a child should interact with adults. Well, that's unexpected, but it should make it easier for me and, perhaps, her to get along in this new situation._

"Are you going to be my father?" she asked straightforwardly.

"If it's all right with you, yes."

"And I'll stay here with you?"

"Of course."

"But my mother has to leave. That's what she said."

"She has much to accomplish, Serran, and you need a place to stay, so that you can go to school."

"Mother told me that there were places here where I can learn to use my Auron abilities." It was such a mature statement for one so young that Avon was taken aback for a moment. He looked into her eyes and sent his thoughts directly to her mind.

*Serran, can you hear me now?*

*Yes.* Her mental voice was a bit more tentative than her forthright speaking voice. In all likelihood, she'd never mind-spoken with anyone but the other Auron members of Cally's small community.

*You don't mind our speaking this way?*

*No, it's just different than talking aloud.*

*It isn't something we'll do often,* he cautioned. *Uncle Vila can't speak with us this way, and it is considered impolite to exclude him.*

Immediately, she switched to verbal communication. "No, that wouldn't be nice, would it?"

Cally stepped up beside them, asking, "Why didn't Vila come over with you?"

"He's with the horse. He didn't feel he should intrude."

Serran pointed toward the trap. "Is that my Uncle Vila?"

"Yes, it is," Avon replied. "Come on, let's go meet him and get back to the house. We'll send someone back for your things later." He offered her his hand, which Serran solemnly accepted. It felt…strange to Avon, holding onto such a small hand. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out, suddenly unbearably proud of child beside him. His…daughter!

They left the ship, Serran walking between Cally and Avon. Stopping before the trap, she looked up, declaring, "You're my Uncle Vila."

"Yes, I am," he replied. As Vila bent over to solemnly shake Serran's hand, Rom shied, pulling Vila around by the reins looped around his arm. Before either man could react, Serran moved to the horse, reached up and touched his head. To everyone's amazement, the big animal quieted immediately.

As the adults silently regarded the little girl, she explained matter-of-factly, "He was frightened. The shuttle made noises and threw dirt at him. He's afraid it'll come and get him."

Avon turned to the child's mother, eyebrows lifted. "Cally, I thought you said you didn't have any animals where you live on Kaarn. Where did she learn about…"

"I read his feeling," the little girl interrupted, her chin raised.

Avon turned to her. "Can you…tell Rom what to do, too?" he asked curiously.

"Of course." She fell silent, her face taking on the same faraway look on that Vila said Avon got when he used his mind powers.

Avon turned toward the horse, not knowing what to expect. Abruptly, Rom quieted from his restless fidgeting, lowered his head and whickered at the child, extending his nose to snuffle at her clothing as she reached out to stroke the velvety nose just below the end of its meandering blaze.

"Well, I'll be damned," Avon swore softly. Shaking off his amazement, he cleared his throat and asked, "Are you all ready to go down to the house?" When they nodded, he took the reins, climbed up to the driver's seat, reaching down to lift Serran up beside him while Vila and Cally settled themselves into the back seat.

"Move on, Rom. Yup!" he called to the horse. Serran grabbed his arm for balance, laughing with delight. Avon glanced down, pleased with her pleasure, with her smile, with her very presence. A lump threatened to seal off his throat and lungs at this treasure that had entered his life. Just at that moment, he felt he had everything in the universe he could ever have desired for a perfect life: a home, a loving mate that he adored, a cherished friend, and now a daughter.


	2. Settling In  Celebration

"This is your room now, Serran. I hope you like it." Avon stood in the doorway, watching the little girl race around, trying to look at everything at once. It was a bright, airy room, very much a contrast to the general dark wood and furniture found in the rest of the house. Vila's hand, of course, was much in evidence here. The wainscoting was painted a soft spring-leaf green, with the upper walls a much paler version of the same color. He'd even had the furniture painted, using warm golds, pale yellows, and light blues. The drapes, needing to be heavy enough to keep out the cold, were lined inside with pure white eyelet lace, which was echoed on the canopy of the four-poster bed and the covers, as well. The floor's dark-finished wood was liberally scattered with colorful throw rugs.

"It's beautiful!" she exclaimed, her eyes alight, "and it's so big!" She climbed up onto the feather bed and bounced experimentally, making several of the multitude of pillows come tumbling about her. "It's so soft!" she said, a look of delight on her face. She pulled one pillow, shaped like heart, with ruffles all around the edges, to her, clutching it to her chest.

Avon laughed easily and Cally, beside him, marveled at how quickly he'd accepted his new role and the responsibility that went with it. She could see that she'd made the right decision to bring her cloned child here. And just as wonderfully, Serran seemed to be taking well to the two men and her new surroundings. She sighed lightly, some knot of tension she hadn't been aware of before releasing within her.

"Come on, Serran," Vila said, motioning her from the bed. "There's some tea and cakes waiting in the library, to tide us over until dinner. I'd like to get your opinion on which kind of cake is the best."

Her excitement over her new room forgotten, Serran left the bed and took Vila's hand, going with him into the hall. Vila looked down at her, saying, "That was quite a trick with the horse today."

As the two moved away, Avon stopped Cally. "Did you have any idea she could do that…with the horse?" he asked.

Cally shook her head, her collar-length auburn hair bouncing about her face. "None. I was as surprised as you were."

"Then it's not a normal Auron talent?"

She considered a moment before answering. "Normal, no, though it's not unheard of, either."

Avon nodded. "Well, we'd best catch up with them, before Vila teaches her something she doesn't need to know yet!"

Cally laughed, having a good idea of what Vila probably shouldn't teach Serran, and Avon joined in.

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They reached the library in time to see Vila 'magically' making coins appear and disappear. Avon hid a smile behind his hand. He'd seen his mate doing the same thing to amuse the children at the first manor where he'd taught while Avon was in the tower, as well as for the growing herd of children swirling about the house and estate. As their enterprises grew, so too did the population attached to Avilla. With the advent of Avon's horse-breeding and training stables, it seemed there were weekly, if not daily, additions to both the human and animal populations, not to mention the steady stream of workers and suppliers needed for the ever-expanding estate. It looked like he'd soon have to find a major domo for the estate outside the house. Of course, the large manor house was firmly under Vila's control already.

Catching sight of Cally, Serran exclaimed, "Watch, mamma! He's making things go away and come back again!"

Catching a troubled look on Avon's face, Cally asked, *What is it, Avon*

He answered, *She doesn't know what to call me, I think.*

*Then, why don't you just ask her, Avon* Cally sent back, amusement coloring her mental voice.

Shrugging assent, Avon approached the child. "Serran, you call him Uncle Vila. What would you like to call me?" he asked solemnly.

Suddenly serious, Serran replied, "Could I call you Father?"

Avon beamed. He had to swallow twice before finding his voice. "I'd like that, very much, I think." His happiness spilled over the room and infected the others.

After they had settled down and eaten some of Vila's idea of a light tea, Avon got an idea. "Vila, get Cally's harp, why don't you?" He turned to his new daughter. "Did you now your Uncle Vila can sing?"

"Nooo…" There hadn't been much music in her life, up to this point. The Kaarn Colony was too new, too close to the survival point, to allow for such things as musical entertainment. She'd of course heard other adults singing, if only to make work easier, but it had never occurred to her that this magical Uncle Vila could also sing.

"He can, but he doesn't like to do it in public. It takes a little extra persuasion sometimes," he hinted.

She turned her wide green eyes toward Vila, pleading, "Please, Uncle Vila?"

"How could I possibly refuse such beautiful eyes?" Vila agreed, as he handed Cally the harp and sat opposite her. The Auron and the former thief proceeded to put on quite a concert and were pleasantly surprised when Avon joined in occasionally, though his singing voice was a bit gravelly. He was much happier to play along on his bodhran, an Irish drum he'd been introduced to and taken a liking to. Of course, the skin drumhead had a painted representation of the Avilla sigil on it, the black circle, silver 'A' and gold 'V' standing out nicely against the mellow tan skin.

Later, after supper and back in the library, as the evening grew late, Vila left his perch near Cally, where they'd been reminiscing quietly together, and went to sit beside his mate. He took Avon's hand and nodded to Cally. She understood, picked up her harp and began to sing the song that had so much meaning to these two.

"The first time ever I saw your face…"

As the song progressed, Serran went over to the two men. Avon moved away from Vila just enough for the youngster to squeeze in between them, adjusting their arms about each other to include her. She looked first at one, then the other, her new father and uncle. She felt safe here, knowing that even though her mother would be leaving in only a few more days, she would be loved and protected by these two, her new family. In the warmth and safety of her new family, she relaxed, worn out by her first day in her new home. Her eyelids drooped and she leaned against Avon.

*I love you, Vila.* Avon sent the private message to his bondmate and saw the answering smile on Vila's face. Avon squeezed Vila's shoulder once, then withdrew. Gently scooping up the sleeping child in his arms, he rose and took her upstairs to her own bed.

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Vila caressed Avon's bare shoulder and smoothed the dark hair back into place. "I wish others could see what I saw tonight."

Avon glanced up languidly. "And what's that?"

"Oh, you know, the private Avon you keep hidden from everyone but me and Cally. And, I guess, Serran," he added thoughtfully.

"Private Avon?"

"Maybe I should have said the 'real Avon', then?"

He chuckled softly against the other man's chest. "You're not making sense, Vila."

"You know very well what I'm talking about," Vila countered, trailing a finger across the other's shoulder, then caressing the dip of his collarbone. "We've had this discussion before. But tonight, you weren't even aware, were you?"

"Aware?" He shoved himself up onto an elbow, so he could look Vila in the face, instead just hearing his voice reverberating in his chest.

"That you never put up your shields today," he said seriously, with a touch of wonder.

Avon thought a moment before nodding. "I…suppose you're right but I didn't really make a conscious decision one way or the other. It just seemed natural, to be the way I was. Besides, I've never pretended with Cally," he said with a wry grin. "She's known me for too long, seen me at my worst. There's no need to hide."

"But you didn't hide from Serran, either," Vila pointed out.

"I know. I…wanted to get off on the right foot with her, I think. She's part of our lives now, a very intimate part. I guess I wanted there to be only truth between us." He stopped, considering what he'd said. It was true-where there'd been two, for so many years, there were now three. Somewhere along the way, he and Vila had become a family of three, for good or ill, forever.

"I suppose I should be glad," Vila murmured, breaking into Avon's train of thought, "that there's a part of you that only a few will ever see."

"Ever the romantic, aren't you, Vila," Avon said, with a fond smile.

"Possibly," he replied in an excellent Avon imitation, "but it's a shame the universe will only know the public Avon, while I…"

He was forestalled from finishing the statement as his partner moved closer, a questing hand stroking through the light dusting of pale hair across his stomach, before venturing further downward, turning Vila's thoughts in an entirely different direction.

Years of incompleteness stretched out behind Avon and Vila. That night they celebrated the end of those years and the thread of a whole new future unspooling brightly before them.


	3. Back to the Tower

Serran stood between her father and uncle, watching her mother's ship lift off, leaving her to her new life. When the craft was out of sight, they walked to where a stable hand was holding their horses, as well as Rom, hitched to the trap the man had driven up, with Cally and her baggage aboard. Avon paused with Serran, as the little girl patted the bay cob. Avon listened in mentally as she told the horse how brave he'd been when the scout took off, all the while patting his neck and rubbing his ears. Together, the pair mounted their horses, joining Vila who'd already mounted, and moved out downhill ahead of the trap.

"You'll be starting your regular lessons tomorrow with Vila," Avon said, watching her carefully as they rode toward the house. Her flaxen-maned chestnut pony, several hands shorter than his powerful black gelding, seemed to be behaving. She'd demonstrated a very quick grasp of the art of horseback riding so that, even without her mental rapport with the little mare, she wasn't in any danger. "This afternoon we're going to visit a very dear friend of ours named Lady Gwenneth. She helped me a few years ago when I was very ill."

"Is she a healer?"

"No, she's…well, I don't quite know what to call her, but she's looking forward to meeting you."

Serran's young face took on a pensive look as she considered Avon's words. "Is Uncle Vila coming with us?" she asked.

"No, he has other duties and I know he wants to get everything ready for tomorrow."

Vila joined the conversation then, coming up on Serran's other side on his own brown gelding. "You'll be attending class with the other children on the estate in the mornings. Afternoons, you'll be with your father, learning about Avilla and all the things we do here."

"Will I get to ride all the horses?" Her enthusiasm shone from her face. In the past few days, she'd proven how valuable she could be with various horses, even gentling Avon's newest purchase, Black Wind Off the Mountains, a magnificent, if uneven-tempered, black stallion he hoped to make the foundation sire for his breeding program. When Serran had ventured too close to the huge animal and Avon feared for her safety, instead of attacking, as the beast had earlier at several stable hands, the stallion had simply dropped his massive head, wuffling in her hair and gently lipping her outstretched hand, delicately taking the proffered vegetable stick. Avon, coming up silently behind the girl, had watched in silent amazement as she stroked the velvety black muzzle and flaring nostrils. When Black Wind caught Avon's scent, instead of rearing, he'd simply backed further into the stall, shaking his shaggy mane in annoyance.

"Of course," Avon answered for Vila, "but we'll have to pick out a few special ones just for you." The smile she gave her father told him all he needed to know. Whatever divine spirit there was in his universe had somehow found Avon a flame mate **†**, at least where love of horses was concerned.

They reached a fork in the road and Vila turned toward the house, waving his goodbyes, leaving Avon and Serran to continue their trek to the tower.

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"This is Serran, my daughter," Avon presented proudly. "Serran, I'd like you to meet the Lady Gwenneth."

Serran curtseyed as she'd been taught, then looked up at her father's friend, a tiny, lovely lady not much taller than she was. "Father said you helped him when he was ill, but then he said you're not a healer." A frown creased her forehead as she puzzled over this inconsistency.

The child's forthrightness impressed Gwenneth. "No, Serran, I work with mind hurts, and your father needed that kind of help. That was why he came here." She smiled up at Avon. "That was almost ten years ago. I took care of him and he liked it here, so he decided to stay on this world."

"I'm glad. I like it here, too." The little girl looked around the parlor they'd been shown to. Though the tower and keep were of stone, this room, hung with tapestries and draperies and hosting a cheerful fire, was calm and inviting and warm. The heavy overstuffed furniture, while worn and old-looking, to her eyes, was comfortable and, somehow, comforting.

*What do you think, Gwenneth?* Avon projected.

*I cannot broach her mind without her permission, Avon. You know that,* she returned, a note of reproach in her mental tone. Ever impatient, she thought.

Avon nodded and turned to his daughter. "You remember, Serran, when we spoke mentally the other day?"

She nodded.

"Well, Lady Gwenneth wishes to do so as well, but her own rules don't allow it, unless you give her permission. Will you do that for me?"

Serran nodded slowly. "You mean she can't send her thoughts to me if I don't want her to?"

"That's right, Serran," Gwenneth replied.

"It's all right if you talk inside my head."

Gwenneth accepted the girl's permission and reached out to her. What she found was very similar to what she'd come to know as Avon's subconscious, but with subtle differences. The child had inherited her natural telepathy from her mother, yet somehow it was not the usual Auronae ability, as she'd come to know from her session with Cally, but brighter, more open. Gwenneth wanted to know more.

*Do you hear me, Serran?*

"Yes.*

"Would you like to learn more about this kind of speaking?*

"More?*

Gwenneth switched to regular speech patterns so that Avon could be a part of the conversation and the discussion.

"There is much we can teach you, Serran."

"Did you teach my father?"

Gwenneth gave her an indulgent smile. "No, he was past the age for teaching when he came here, though I did help him learn to live with his ability."

"Can Uncle Vila do the mind speaking?"

Avon hid a smile behind his hand, wondering how the lady would answer.

"I believe he could if he wished, but it's his decision to not develop any powers he might have been born with. You will learn, if you study with us here, how to deal with that kind of situation."

"So I shouldn't try to talk to Uncle Vila's mind?"

"Well, I think you can send your thoughts to him, but he won't be able to return the sending." Gwenneth looked over at Avon. "She'll need further testing, of course, but the potential is there."

Avon nodded his understanding and acceptance. "What about her shielding?"

Gwenneth focused her mind back to Serran's. *Do you ever hear other minds that are speaking, not to you, but to each other?"

Serran tilted her head to one side. *I can hear noise, if I try to, but it hurts my head, so I don't listen. Then the noise goes away.*

*Can you keep someone from sending their thoughts to your mind, Serran?*

The young girl seemed to concentrate, then a defiant look came over her face.

Gwenneth attempted to touch the child's mind, but found she was prevented from doing so

*She has powerful shields for one so young," Gwenneth projected to Avon.

*I suspected so.*

"Thank you, Serran," the lady said aloud. "I am looking forward to getting to know you and teaching you." She placed a hand on Serran's shoulder. "And perhaps you can teach me something as well."

The child blinked, her eyebrows rising. "I can?" Serran asked in wonder.

"Oh, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you, Lady Gwenneth," Avon said, his tone more formal than before. "We'll formalize a schedule for training that can be worked into her regular schooling on the estate."

"Very good, Dom Avon," she returned, giving him his formal title as a courtesy, with a touch of a smile. The two of them seldom stood on courtesy when they were alone; it was hard to be formal when you'd seen into each other's minds. "We'll be in touch."

Avon and his daughter left the tower and grounds, riding leisurely back to Avilla.

"I'm hungry, Father."

Avon laughed, "So am I. Let's hope Uncle Vila has a special dinner planned for us."

"Can he cook?" Serran asked, interested in all things having to do with her new 'uncle' Vila.

Avon started to answer her, then thought a moment more. "Well, yes, he can, but usually he just makes sure the food is taken care of by the kitchen staff."

They rode the rest of the way in silence, each thinking of the changes that were sure to come. It would be an interesting future, of that there was no doubt.

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_A/N: That ends AVON'S LITTLE GIRL. Next up is TREASURES. Vila comes back from a long business trip off-planet, to find that things have changed around Avilla during his absence, and not for the better._

† _A flame mate is like a soul mate, but brought into one's life for a specific purpose._


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